Period 4 Global Social Studies
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: Keely's going to cry. With problems so gargantuan, how can one person possibly make a difference, let alone solve?


Period 4 Global Social Studies

11:30am-12:20pm

Phil & Keely, Ms. Selletti, Brady, Roger Nutchie

Disclaimer: When we all contribute, we can survive and thrive even cancellation, even non-ownership of PotF.

Thanks to my penpal okaie who nudged me just right to post more often.

Current events being read about war in the Middle East, melting ice caps, and starvation; Keely like the rest of the students get scared, tears and sobs, getting depressed. The teacher is called by Hackett to come to his office:

"Now is not a good time, Vice-Principal Hackett."

"Are you being insubordinate to my vice-principalshipness?

Sigh. "No Sir. On my way." Scans depressed, tear filled faces. Only Phil is different -- he's concerned about Keely, his eyes focused on her. "Phil, you're in charge of the class until my return."

"But I --'

"Please, Phil."

"Yes, Ms. Selletti."

Phil didn't want to leave Keely's side. He can't stand seeing her heart hurt; Keely is empathetic to everyone, and now she's trying to embrace a world filled with pain, poison, and violence. For the first time, Phil sees the faces of all his classmates, they've been affected just like his girlfriend. He can't whisper reassurances to Keely that the future is going to turn out fine, not with so many witnesses' eyes upon him. To Phil, these images have just been ancient history, but this is the only world that these teenagers know and they're torn up over what they've witnessed -- what Keely has seen. How can he help Keely without revealing his family's secret?

Phil tells them a "story" about how things are going to change as more intelligent decisions are made: trillions spent not on fighting terrorists, but helping people around the globe, solar powered refrigerators, companies setting up manufacturing facilities in warring countries, each creating vital portions of the medicines for the weak and aged, who is going to attack people providing medicine to save their children and their parents? Interdependence saves the world. Excavation equipment that creates massive underground farms in the deserts of Africa with lightpipes that fill the subterranean farms with free illumination -- Africa's Sahara Desert becomes the breadbasket for the world; gardening worldwide in fact slows global warming long enough for CO2 levels to be brought under control, rooftop gardens, lawns in front of business are replaced by gardens to feed the hungry and the homeless, students at schools vote to devote part of the school yards and surrounding grounds with gardens to feed the needy, while providing students with community service credit.

There is a question volunteered, "How does it start?"

"It already has. We started it. We're on the internet, right? Learning to get along and work together to fix what broken. That's how it changes."

"Come off it, Diffy. Not than 'tolerance' baloney that everyone is shoveling these days -- and the internet? That's just for porn." It was Roger Nutchie.

"It's communication, and that's power. As for tolerance, you're correct. It's not the answer."

"What?" Roger was always caught off balance when somebody agree with him, especially Phil Diffy.

"Which of us wants to be in a room or a relationship where we're merely tolerated or used? This is our one and only life. We deserve what we demand of it. We're not the only ones that feel that way either."

"Oh, you know what everybody thinks, Diffy? Do you have a crystal ball that can see into the future?"

Grim. Phil didn't like Roger, so he stare him back down and agreed with him again, "Yes."

Clenching her teeth so viciously that she thought that she could have broken a filling, Keely's eyes went wide, not believing what Phil had just uttered. His eyes had shifted to hers. Was he asking for permission? Was he going to reveal his secret?

"Keely, would you google a few words for me, please?"

Shaken, Keely got up and made her way to the teacher's computer terminal. "Wh-what should I search first?"

"'LOVE.'"

"Phil, 'Love' has 625,00~0,00~0 hits."

"Try 'HOPE.' Any predictions, Roger?"

"Less than 'Love." 'Love' has to be on most every porn site."

"1,570,00~0,00~0 hits for 'Hope.' That's more than twice as many as 'love,' Keely Teslow reported with mixed emotions. "Next?"

"Please, try 'porn,' since Roger measures so much by it," quipped Phil, getting smirks from their classmates.

"The school's internet security software won't let me search that term."

Somebody got up and made his way to the teacher's computer terminal, reaching around Keels, "I can get around it."

"Thanks, Grady."

"Wow, 'PORN' only received two-hundred twenty-three million matches," Keely reported incredulously. "Let me search 'TOLERANCE.'"

Roger works his way to the front of the class to read the screen for himself. In disbelief, he reads 46,700,00~0 hits for 'tolerance;' the smallest set of matches so far. Phil is correct: tolerance just isn't that popular.

"Try 'HELP,'" comes a voice from the doorway. It is Ms. Selletti back from the office. It hadn't been anything important, as she had reckoned. All eyes aim her way. Just how long has she been listening?

Keely's long fingers had typed in quite a few four-lettered words so far: "love," "hope," even "porn." What would "help" reveal? She tapped on four keys and moused over to "Search." There it was: Phil's crystal ball. He was right. There are the needs and we are the solutions. Keely counted over the ten digits as she prepared to read the largest number of the day to her classmates. "Five billion, one-hundred twenty-million matches."

Blushing, Phil looks to his teacher, but sees that she wants him to continue. Uneasy for reasons only Keely understands, with a deep breath, he does. "There are already one-million organizations on Earth working hard to solve their piece of the world's dilemmas. We're not alone, and we're not powerless. We're here, we're concerned, and we're reaching out to get involved and make a difference."

Characteristically pessimistic, Roger broke from his habit and asked a question tinged with hope, "Can we get past all the garbage of nationalism, racism, and all the other 'isms' to actually work together, Phil?"

"Haven't you noticed how easily you can get to really know people on line? Defenses are down, it no longer matters what you look like, what your reputation is, or what you're wearing. You're just putting yourself 'out there,' and others do the same. We finally have the crystal ball for seeing into people's souls and finding out what they're really like deep down. It's better than mind reading, better than a lie detector. It's the magic that links us all as one people on one world."

Lots of nods ran through the classroom. His teacher smiles. Phil continues. "Connecting with people whom we'd never have met before. Establishing relationships, sharing ideas, coming up with solutions, and throwing pocket change toward making things better for someone else, we're old enough to make big impacts right now. After all, my sister managed to raise $50,809 for a rat. This is how it started, uh, is starting."

The class calms and is uplifted. Keely's once teary face is smiling again. The teacher excuses Phil and his friends to their seats as she returns to the front of the room, careful not to step under the spitwad-encrusted photo of Vice-Principal Hackett adorning the ceiling, and mumbling something under her breath about who cares what color the new school stationary is going to be printed on. Phil returns to his seat, worried that he may have blown his cover. From beside him Keely reaches for his hand and squeezes like there's no tomorrow at first, then relaxes her grip and says thank you, because he made tomorrow bright again. The bell rings telling all that it's time to get moving.


End file.
